


pl: nuclei; but you only need one, anyway.

by possessedradios (orphan_account)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: I made it as Incredibly s o f t as possible, Jon "what are timezones" Sims (he's valid), M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Takes place sometime during season 3, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 16:40:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16685287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/possessedradios
Summary: Martin likes the word "nucleus". (Atomic nucleus, the very dense central region of an atom; the center is what holds it all together, right?) Maybe, Martin thinks, that's what Jon is for him, but he can't know that, because he has to save the world, and it's not that important, anyway. Martin can still enjoy hearing his voice.





	pl: nuclei; but you only need one, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fab_ia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_ia/gifts).



> Written for the prompt "Things you said on the phone, at 4 am".

Martin’s vision blurs as he frantically writes, small notepad illuminated by nothing but the faintest glow of his phone that’s tucked between his ear and shoulder.

“Alright,” he says, “umm, so, circusses, circus music, maybe a callio… how did you pronounce it?”

“Calliope,” Jon repeats. “But I’m, I’m not actually sure how– Sasha mentioned–” He cuts himself off abruptly, and Martin bites his lip. 

There’s nothing but soft static for a handful of seconds. It almost sounds like the ocean currently separating them.

“Nevermind,” Jon says eventually. There’s a darker inflection to his voice now. Martin wishes he hadn’t asked. “The calliope, yes. And… Well, we’re talking about the Stranger, you know some of the statement’s contents. Everything that falls under, um, _uncanny valley_ might be useful.”

Martin writes it down, even though he’s sure he could remember all that even without any notes, the notes were for the specific places and time spans Jon mentioned, but keeping his hands occupied feels good; it keeps him from just falling right back asleep. “Unknowing,” he says through a yawn; he can’t do anything to hold it back.

“The Unknowing, of course. If _this_ gets mentioned anywhere, we could quite plausibly assume the concerned statement to be…” Jon slowly trails off when Martin yawns again. The silence sounds startled.

“Wait, how… How late is it in London?”

Martin hums and wants to give an exact time, but his phone feels to comfortable in its current position and he doesn’t want to move, so he tries to guess how long they’ve been talking and says, “About four, I think.”

Jon curses under his breath and mutters something that Martin doesn’t catch under the sound of paper being shuffled around. “Martin, I am sorry,” he says then, hurriedly. “I just– I _forgot_. How could I forget… I would have sent you an email if–”

“It’s fine,” Martin says and sleepily blinks down at his notepad before pushing it aside and lying back down. He thinks Jon is done for now. “It’s… It was nice hearing your voice.”

He’s not lying. He doesn’t think he’s ever lied to Jon, save from the CV thing, not once. _Not telling_ _something doesn’t count as lying_ , he thinks, and then thinks, _maybe I could tell him, at 4 am, with a whole ocean between us, because the world might be ending_. But then again, the world might be ending, and Jon has more important things to focus on.

“I’ll let you go back to sleep,” Jon says. “I would appreciate if you could send me any progress you make as soon as–”

“Don’t go,” Martin says, and then, “When will you come back?” Nothing for a second, and he opens his mouth again; speaks without thinking. “I– uh, we, I mean, we miss you.”

Incredulous silence. Martin is so stupid. He closes his eyes.

“Right,” Jon breathes eventually. “I’m, um, I’m not sure yet. When I’ll be back. Soon, I’d hope. I… I understand now what Tim meant when he spoke about what taking his … unscheduled holiday felt like. Being so far away from the Institute – it feels _wrong_.”

Martin hums. Sometimes he wonders what it must be like, to feel a connection so profound – and that’s what this is, isn’t it? Jon, the Archivist, and the Archives. Elias. He grimaces a little. Sometimes he wonders. Sometimes he’s sure he knows, only that his own, personal center is Jon himself. As if Jon was the web, an undefined sort of vague, unstable, shaky home, and Martin, the spider, navigating the sticky strings, never wandering too far off. Something about the metaphor doesn’t fit right, but Martin can’t put his finger on it.

 _Nucleus_ , Martin thinks, _that’s a nice word, there are so many nice words._ He’s so sleepy.

“Martin?” Jon’s voice, hardly more than a whisper. “Are you asleep?”

 _No_ , he thinks, and then says, “No.” And, then, because he doesn’t want to stop talking to Jon, he almost desperately scrambles for something to say. Jon’s voice is so … so _nice_ , it’s warm and smooth and makes him feel safe. Some small part of him had entertained the idea of taking home a few tapes, just so he’d be able to listen to his voice. Feel safe. But then again, the content of those would not exactly have contributed to a feeling of safety. 

“No one has tried to kill Elias again,” he goes with, eventually. “But Basira bought one of, one of those large stickers, um. It says ‘Big brother is watching you’, and she, she put it on Elias’s office door.”

Jon makes a soft noise that could be surprise, could be disbelief. “Christ. And she’s still alive?”

“Mmhm. Sticker’s still there, he just… just didn’t take it off. Basira said she thinks he finds it funny. She started calling us Team Beholding in front of other employees of the Institute. No one gets it, of course, but… hmm. Tim… Tim keeps disappearing and tells everyone that it’s fine because what’s Elias gonna do, fire him? I… well, I… make tea. Daisy… hm…” He trails off, yawning, unsure what he was actually going for in regards to Daisy and unable to think of anything nice that has to do with Melanie.

Jon laughs. It sounds tired (Martin does the math quickly – if he’s still in Chicago, it would be past 10 pm over there) but embed in the tiredness, it’s … genuine. Martin doesn’t remember if he’s ever heard that before. It makes his chest feel warm.

“Business as usual, then?” Jon asks, smile still evident in his voice, “Only with the surprising revelation that Elias might be an eldritch abomination with an actual sense of humor?”

“I suppose that’s what I as trying to say,” Martin answers, smiling as well, now. 

“Well, then. That’s good to hear. Really.” The smile slowly fades from Jon’s voice. “I’ll … leave you to rest, now,” he adds. “Let me know if you find anything, alright?”

Martin nods, even though Jon can’t see it. …Or maybe he can. Martin sighs, presses his face into the pillow. And then he just says it, says what he really meant before, carefully hidden between a soft sigh and a yawn, “I miss you.”

Jon says nothing for a moment that seems to stretch into all of eternity, but Martin doesn’t mind, doesn’t care, because he’s already half back asleep, and if he only imagines the eventual reply, in the softest of voices, barely audible over the ocean of static, then, oh, just as well. The vague hint of an “I miss you too, I think” makes him smile all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr @possessed-radios and my podcast sideblog is @shortwaveattentionspan.


End file.
